Sabriel at Heart
by AzzaBby
Summary: After another finished hunt, an Angel appears to Sam, talking of Team Free-Will. She asks for help, to which Sam agrees. Helping the Angels friend is going to be hard, but Sam cannot help but enjoy it. Who is this Angel? Why does he want Sam? And what the hell is going to happen once this mission is over? Candy-Man and Sammy's story...
1. Chapter 1

_**Sabriel at Heart**_

Sam sat at his desk – well, the little table inside their dingy hotel room – and pulled out his laptop. It took forever to turn on, and when it did, it froze within seconds, the tell-tale sign that Dean had been using it again for 'research'.

"God-dammit!" he grunted, shutting the lid and pushing it away from him, leaning back in his creaky chair. His huge frame struggled to be confined on such a small piece of furniture, but he groaned and bore it. This was the norm for him.

"Sammy?" his brother voiced from the bathroom, peeking his head around the door, his wet hair straggling across his forehead. Dean's eyes lit with unneeded amusement as Sam looked away from him, knowing he had just stepped out of the shower and was probably naked. "Go gets a bite to eat, will ya? I'm starving!"

"Dean… there is no way I am leaving you alone with my laptop. Not again."

"But – C'mon, Sam, don't be a bitch!"

"We'll get something to eat then we can hit the road," Sam growled, ending the conversation. Dean disappeared behind the closing door again and Sam set to packing what little things they had.

Living on the road had taught them a lot - like pack light and never hit the same town twice. Everything they had could be packed into a few small bags which easily fit in the back of their car; the Impala. Sam threw Deans old duffel onto the other hunters bed and lay down on his, staring at the pale cracked ceiling.

He missed the stable life, only a little bit but it was times like these when the silence fell he remembered it and yearned for it. His apple pie life; with a free ride to Standford and one of the best scores in his testing than anyone had ever gotten and Jess. _God, Jess…_

He closed his eyes as old tears pushed themselves behind his eyelids and hid there. He missed Jess more than anything, but recently he had realized he was forgetting her. The soft smell of her perfume and her little habits had long since drifted from his memory. All he had left, was a picture seared into his brain; Jess in her nightgown, eyes terrified as her stomach bled and the ceiling she was stuck to catching fire, burning her alive-

"Sammy?" Dean asked, giving his brother a light slap across the cheek to wake him from his reverie. "You okay?"

He nodded once at his now fully clad brother and rolled off the bed, grabbing his things and heading out the open motel door to the car. He dropped the bags in the nearly full-of-weapons trunk and slammed it shut, which received him a glare from Dean.

"Hey-hey-hey! Careful of Baby!"

They got in and drove off, Dean having already paid the bill, to the hard beat of an ACDC track blaring out of the speakers.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

With the wendigo case over with, Sam and Dean felt free to park the car that night, simply to lie on the hood and watch the sky. As Dean sat there, a little smile pulling on his cheeks, he took a swig of his beer and glanced at his baby brother. Sam was sprawled on the hood, leaning against the glass so he was at the perfect angle to watch the world go by, while Dean sat at the furthest corner of the Chevy watching anything but.

There was no need for talking at times like these. These were the moments which made their tormented lives bearable. Just.

Dean finished off his bottle and threw it to the ground, getting into the back seat of his car and lying down to rest without a word, leaving Sammy to his peace.

Sam loved the stars – he remembered Cas telling him of how they looked close up - the real stars through clear eyes, not which the 'feeble human eye' could see. Stars were not small and white like they appeared, they were enormous, some bigger than the planet they were stood on itself and full of life and colour, and alive.

As if on cue, a stream of light fell across the black night, illuminating the darkness for a moment of sheer joy and then disappearing, like nothing had happened. Everything was silent again.

"Sam? Sam Winchester?"

Sam turned to see a young woman stood beside him with pale grey eyes and auburn hair. "Are you Sam Winchester?" she asked again, her soft voice hard to pick up as she took a step back and lowered her tone.

"Yes. Who are you?"

"I am Valoel, Angel of the Lord and of peace."

Sam jumped off the car and strode towards her, unable to stop himself, anger burning from his eyes. "Haven't you had enough? What do you want now?"

"I am an Angel of the Lord and peace," she repeated, her head dropping to face the ground. "I do not like conflict."

Sam stopped and looked at her – really looked at her. She had a small cut along her cheekbone which was still bleeding and her eyes were beyond that of innocence that a child bears. Just like Castiel's. "You haven't been around long, have you?" he realised.

"This is my first time on Earth, yes."

"So why are you here?"

"Curiosity, and a vow," she answered, looking into his eyes and giving a small smile. "I told a friend I would give something to you when the skies settled. Then I should fall and find you."

"F-fall? As in, from grace?"

"I removed my grace, yes; as part of my promise to my best friend, my brother."

"Serious? You… for a friend?"

"Not all Angels are entirely devout. Even Angels are allowed alliances and the option of choice. Team free-will, he told me!"

The mentioning of those words had Sam's eyebrows shooting up, hiding beneath his shaggy, dark hair. "Cas sent you? You must want Dean-"

"No. To both. Not Cas and most surely not Dean." Her head flicked back and she watched the sky as three more shooting stars soared across. "My brothers and sisters are falling, too. I had hoped this would not happen… Listen, Sam, time is running short. More Angels fall daily and the peace in Heaven is failing. I was brought here to bring peace to this planet as my home cannot. I am to give you your gift and leave to die."

"Die?"

"Yes, Sam. Everyone dies. Now is simply my time. My death shall bring peace to this Earth and shall hopefully keep it as such. I am trusting you two," she concluded, nodding her head in the direction of the sleeping Dean, "to keep hell fire from burning up top, again. Can you do that?" Sam nodded and she held out her hand to him in farewell. "Then, I bid you adieu. Your message will arrive in the morning. Keep driving until you reach the Starboard Port and stay there tonight. I know the room. Farewell, Sam Winchester." And she turned and ran off, very un-lady-and-angel-like but effective. She was very fast and soon disappeared into the shrubbery lining the road.

Sam was shaken, his body feeling numb as he watched her vanish from sight. Without thinking about it, he stepped inside the Impala and began driving in the direction she had indicated.

As she had predicted, a few miles down the road the soft glare of lights put an end to the darkness and he immediately pulled over. Under the large neon sign reading "Captain's Cabin Motel", he parked the car and leaned into the back seat to shake his brother awake. Dean sat up groggily, a look of malice in his eyes as he got out of the car and headed in the direction of the check in without a word.

Sam stood at the door, waiting for his brother to return and when he did they went straight to their assigned room in silence, both craving sleep and a moment of relaxation before the next case arrived. Neither man could remember the room number they were staying in, only that they were placed in the 'starboard port', and simply fell onto the separate beds and drifting into a peaceful sleep.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Morning came and Sam felt like he was barely human – in the sense that he had slept little and not at all well, not like the demonic, possessed sort of not human. He growled to his aching body as he slumped into a sitting position and checked the bedside clock for the time. Three hours was enough sleep for him.

He prepared for the day before his brother had even awoken, going over his conversation with the angel Valoel from the previous night. Who else would say Team Free-will apart from Cas?

As if on cue, the rat-a-tat of knocking sounded at the door, bringing Dean to his feet, startled into consciousness and Sam practically ran to answer it. "I've got it, Dean… I was expecting someone."

His brother, forever the idiot, gave him a childish yet creepy smile which said he knew his brother was doing something wrong. "Could've got rid of me first, Sammy," he grinned, shoving his boots on and grabbing his jacket before pushing past Sam and opening the door. He gave a hurried "hey" to the woman before taking off in the direction of the impala and leaving a stunned angel and Sam on the doorstep.

"May I come in?" she asked after a moment, gaining ground on reality again. Sam stepped back to let he through and shut the door behind her, keeping his hunters eyes trained on her, expecting something that could only be described as **wrong**.

Her auburn hair hid most of her face as she kept it downcast. She sat straight onto the edge of Sam's bed and began twiddling her thumbs like a child waiting for punishment. Her white dress was ruined, covered in mud spatters and ripped in so many places it was now impossible to tell the original design of it, and her bare feet were cut and grimy, too.

"What happened?" he asked, taking seat on Deans bed and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees and trying to assess her without seeing her face which was proving exceptionally hard.

After what felt like forever, she finally looked up and Sam had to contain a disgusted gasp at what he saw. One of her eyes was gone. Completely removed from the socket, and the other was barely closed up that it had swollen so much, barely the glimpse of grey sparkling through. The left side of her face (the side also missing the eye) had the skin burned off and the right had been slashed so many times it was nearly impossible to tell where the skin remained. "Sam, it was worse than I predicted," she sighed, not a hint of pain in her voice. "I was going to just drop off the message but I needed to rest, and I had hoped… well, I had hoped you would let me lie here for a while."

Sam could not speak. Instead he rushed to the bathroom and began running some warm water. Finding a small bowl in the main part of the motel room, he filled it and grabbed a cloth. Sitting beside her, he began tending to her wounds like he would with his brother. She tried to push him away, but he didn't let her.

"Sam, I came here with a purpose, other than rest," she managed after the man beside her had cleaned the blood from the right side of her face. He dare not attempt on the other side, afraid it would cause her too much pain. "Sam, I am here to give you a letter."

She seemed to pull it from thin air as it appeared in her hand as she held it out to him, to which he readily accepted it. The envelope was heavy and quite thick; it was dull red in colour, had been embossed throughout, and was sealed with a wax symbol of the letter A.

Sam opened it immediately, setting his previous possessions on the floor and lying back to read it. A thick parchment fell out into his hand and he opened it with childlike excitement. In the centre of the letter was a small pouch which he did not bother to examine before reading it first. Getting comfy, he slowly took in each word:

_"My dearest Sam,_

_ It has been such a long time, I am afraid, and it is NOT my fault before you lay blame. Nearly dying can take a long time to heal, not matter whether you are an angel or not._

_ I have heard from all of my brothers and sisters of how much of a wonderful job you have done – although they do not use those exact words – and have conquered over everything fate has thrown at you – congrats!_

_ So, I guess you're wondering what the hell is going on, why this is all happening, etc. blah blah blah… And if you are anything like the Sam I used to know, by now you will have that weird little crease between your eyebrows and will be getting angrier the more suspense I pull. So I will continue with haste and continue to extract this torture upon you (always fun to do, my friend!)._

_ Now Sam, I know what has happened recently (up to which point this letter was written, I mean). My brother, Zadkiel, has kept me informed of the local and recent news about you Winchesters and Co. so do not worry, I am up to date with everything._

_ Here is what I want to say about the situation at hand, then. I have been given a final chance from heaven, but only a human can fulfil it, and I believe you to be the human to do so. Encased along with this message in a small pouch, and I hope to our Father that you did not touch it first, otherwise you shall have no choice in the matter – in which case reading on from here should be redundant, so if you've done an idiotic Dean move, skip the next paragraph or two, okay? Just go grab yourself some pie and a beer if you wish to follow in your brothers' path!_

_ If, on the other hand, you have been the good little Sammy-boy I know and have read this first, then well done! Not a true Winchester! Good for you! - then what I am about to say is quite important. Heavens Court has agreed to give me a pardon to all my crimes if I can fulfil a task, which like I said, needs a human. Unfortunately for me, I have to be able to trust them as well as have them trust me. Now, we both know that unlike how most people perceive angels, we are, in Deans words, just "junkless dicks," which is something I am certain any human would realise after a few moments in any of our presence. _

_ If you agree to help me, for which I would forever be in your debt, then open the little pouch I sent along with this letter. Be VERY careful with it, though, as it is VERY rare and, in the wrong hands, VERY dangerous. What I need you to do is open it and pour the contents on your hand –I promise there is nothing sinister and strange inside – and blow onto it. That's it. _

_ Now, I must rest. If you intend to partake in my little crusade, then I will owe you, and an angel indebt to you is something you could use greatly to your advantage, yes? I suppose I will find out shortly, then, Sam. I hope to see you soon. I have asked my sister, Valoel, to bring this to you – I hope you are nice to her, she is the sweetest angel in any garrison – in a years' time to this date, At which point, I know I will be dead – no, do not weep for me, boy, I will return soon! – so I shall not be able to reply instantly, but I will as soon as I am reincarnated, or reinstated or whatever term you hairless apes use nowadays. _

_ Goodbye, Sam, and hopefully hello soon,_

_ Waiting,_

_ Your Angel in Heaven._

"Who sent this, Valoel?" Sam asked, folding the letter back up and picking up the small pouch and weighing it in his hand.

"A good man," she grumbled. She had fallen back onto Sam's bed and was now curled up in a ball with an arm beneath her head. She was nearly asleep.

The little pouch he held was made of a thin black material which felt rough, even against his calloused hands, and was around about the size of a peach, quite tiny compared to his gigantic palm. He undid the thin leather cord and emptied the contents on to his hand without thinking about it. He still had no idea who had sent the message, but there was only one way to find out, right?

Groaning to himself about how stupid he was, he examined the contents with an annoyed glare. The dust that came out was glittering and miniscule, creating a little heap upon his palm, a multitude of colours from pinks and silvers to blues and gold's that reflected off the light in the room.

Who the hell – or in this case, heaven – knew about team free will apart from Dean, Cas and himself? Unless the angels had been spying on them again, but he knew Castiel had used his angel mojo to hide them from prying eyes… So who could know?

Someone high up, probably. Very high up if they had blocked their protection charms. God, maybe? Not 'Cas-God' but **God**_-_God. Why would he care now, after everything that had happened and he had hid from them?

Only one way to find out, right?

Taking a deep breath, and telling himself a thousand reasons of why what he was about to do was stupid, he released his breath and blew the dust off his palm watching it fly into the air and hover there. It seemed to float for a moment, defying gravity and mocking him as it swirled before him, before falling swiftly to the ground.

Nothing happened. But then again, the letter did say the '_reply would not be instantaneous,'_ so he didn't have to expect it right away. Looking back at Valoel on the bed, he smiled a little. Despite her horrendous exterior at this present moment, the small smile on her lips reminded him of the beauty he had seen the night before. No person should ever suffer like she had. **Ever**_._

A bolt of pain ripped through his head, blinding his eyes as it shot across. He fell forwards, falling from the edge of the bed he was sat upon, and fell face first onto the floor, nose filling with the colourful glitter dust he had just blown upon. Gasping for breath as the dust attacked his nose, he opened his mouth to gulp down air, but the glitter swam into his mouth and drowned that, too.

Was he dying? Sam Winchester had gone against monsters most people could never even dream of; he had gone against heaven and hell and even the Devil himself! Yet, here he was, about to die on a pack of pixie dust? Really?

'_C'mon, Sam!'_ he chided himself, trying to pull his weak arms to move to his sides but finding them immobile. '_This is pitiful! What would Dean think if he saw you now?' _That got him moving, if only slightly. He forced his face to the side, draining every last ounce of energy he had left. It didn't work. The dust still attacked him, until with his last laboured breath he had inhaled all trace of the substance and his lungs ceased to work.

Sam Winchester, hunter in more senses than the word suggests, died, in a crappy motel room, next to an ex-angel who was dying, too, all because of an angel in heaven who told him to blow some dust away. His last thought before he departed the world was: '_Well done, Sammy. Now, are you going to heaven or hell?'_

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Sam woke in a house. Yes, that's right. **A house!** Not a motel room that smelt of cheap alcohol and the stale scent of sex, but an honest to God house, with blue window shutters and a big white door. His head throbbed and his ass stung as he rolled off it, rubbing it idly with his hand.

He opened his eyes and gawped at his surroundings, like a child seeing their first rainbow. A wooden mantelpiece and an old log fire sat to the north of the room, taking up half the wall with how large it was. To the left of him sat a large oak dining table and accompanying chairs, and to his right were a thousand photographs, framed and nailed onto the wall, depicting whoever owned this houses' life. There were old women and young boys, babies the size of your hand and scenes from moments they couldn't let themselves forget. A true family house.

Sam sat up, pulling the thin blanket off of him and looked down to see he had been sleeping on a large red sofa. His large shape had been indented into the leather, showing him the exact position he had been in for the past however many hours.

Where the hell was he?

Standing up, he began to pace, wracking his memory for where he was last. He remembered the wendigo, and the motel and the angel-

The angel! Valoel! Everything began clicking into place and he found himself still in the centre of the room, dazing off into the unseen distance, unaware that he was no longer alone. _'The letter! It must be the angel. Well, that fudge monkey is gonna have a lot to make up for- Wait, didn't I die...'_

"C'mon, Sammy-boy. Now's not the time for day-dreaming, eh?"

Sam's body swung around at a speed so fast even the angel struggled to track it. He looked over the being before him, taking in every inch of him, trying to remember him.

The man before Sam was tiny, even to Sam's standards, as he was barely over five foot. He had black hair and dark brown eyes that were too dull to be called anything but that. His clothes (a ruined, dark business suit) were scraggly and well worn, scuffed in more places than not. His feet were bare and he had what little was left of his overcoat draped over his miniscule shoulders. Sam had no idea who he was.

"I cannot thank you enough, Sam. Heaven does not think we will succeed, but I knew you would have faith in me – in us!" he continued, giving Sam a lazy, lopsided smirk to relieve some of the tension. "Those winged ass monkeys thought you would say no, but I told them my big ol' Moose would be there for me… You have no idea how good it is to see you, Sam."

Sam took a step back when the man tried to step towards him, arms outstretched as he was going in for a hug. "I only did it so I could find out who you were… So are you… God?"

The man dropped his arms, his cheeky grin turning into an incredulous frown. "Really? After everything I do for you and you don't even remember my name. Well, don't I feel a little used…"

"You didn't even sign your name," he excused himself, walking out of the room and into the kitchen to find himself a drink. The only thing this house seemed to have was tap water so he poured himself a tumbler of that and downed it in a single go, even though what he really wanted was something a **lot** stiffer than water.

"Well, I guess I had hoped you would just know. I mean, I've always been there for you and everything… Never mind, Chucklehead. All is fair in love and war, eh?" The angel came behind him, grabbing a hold of his forearm and leading him into the living room and towards the large table. Throwing Sam into a chair, he sat opposite him, waving a small hand over the space before them. As he lowered his hand to the table, just to the side of him, a large array of papers manifested before them, settling like snow. "So here's the job, Moosey. We gotta find three... **people**, and return them safely to heaven. Deal is, they know about angels, though, so they know we're coming for them. That's why I needed you, Sam. I need a human to draw them in, and then when they're nice and safe, we reel them in and give them to the guys upstairs. **Comprende?** "

"When you say people, what do you mean? Human, angel, demon? Creature of the night?" Sam asked, gazing over the photographs and essays, police reports and death certificates.

"Can't say. Not entirely sure myself. All I know is, the big guys want them, and if I wanna stay breathing, I'm the one who's gonna find 'em. So, my lovely, **lovely **Moose… are you in? Please?"

Groaning, Sam lifted one of his arms up, resting his elbow on the table and his forehead in his palm. "I don't even know your name… but yes. I'm in."

He barely had moment to breathe, as with a flap of wings the angel appeared beside him, placing a kiss on his forehead and wrapping his arms around Sam's tall frame, pulling him into a threateningly tight hug. "Sam, Sam, Sam… You have no idea…" He released the man and took a few steps back, lips pulled into a rather creepy looking grin and arms still slightly raised as if he were about to jump and hug him again. "Thank you, Sam."

"Yeah, yeah," the Sasquatch grumbled, standing and giving the tiny man a single nod before walking to the door and stepping out.

He sat on the front porch steps and watched the neighbourhood around him move, as if knowing nothing. All these people, here and all over this tiny world, were still alive because of him and his brother. They had stopped Lucifer from killing every last one of them and had saved them all from an eternity of hell fire and none of them knew it. The few that did were locked inside nut-houses or out hunting other monsters to get rid of their anger.

The garden before him was picturesque. It had a large tree off to the side and was lined with flowers and freshly cut grass. The pebbled path twirled its way through the greenery and ended at his feet, a too human white clashing against the colours of nature. The soft smell of roses and fresh air tickled his nose. He leant back onto his hands and tilted his head to the sky.

His throat still felt scratchy, but what else could you expect when you choked to death, and his hip and butt hurt, annoying him into shifting his position every few seconds to try and get comfy, but failing each time.

"Beauty ain't it?" the angel asked, sitting besides him and crossing his legs. His brown eyes kept flicking over Sam in a way that made him uncomfortable. Surely this was the other way around with angels – **they** were the uncomfortable ones all the damn time! "You have no idea how much it cost me, Sam, to get here."

"How did **I** get here, Angel?"

The black haired man chuckled and gave a sad sigh before answering. "I like that, Sam. **Angel…** Only if I can be **your **angel, though, hmm?" He chuckled again and turned to face the street, hiding his eyes from Sam so he could not see if he was being honest or joking. "You died. It had to happen, so your soul could come to heaven, as proof to the big guys that you had agreed. But… it doesn't matter. I'll tell you when you ask. I don't wanna ruin this moment, Chucklehead, so don't make me, okay?"

They sat in silence, watching as a group of young children ran out of the house opposite them and began chasing each other around the confinements of the garden with such glee that both men had to smile. It was a good moment. Unfortunately, it was quickly destroyed thanks for the angels' big mouth.

"I can't believe you don't remember me, Sammy," he sighed, turning his sad eyes towards him. "You really don't?"

"Give me your name and I'll let you know."

Like a switch had been flicked, his eyes began to glow with an inner joy as a plan began to twist its way inside his mind. "Nah, this is too much fun! I'm pulling a few feathers at the minute, and I am getting my old body fixed – it was my favourite of any I have had before! – and when I do, you are gonna be so upset you forgot me."

"So what am I to call you then? Angel, for the rest of this damned task?"

"No, Moosey; you can call me Candy Man," he grinned, snapping his fingers and having a cherry red lollipop appear in his grasp, which quickly went into his grinning mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A,N: Okay, so I am going to appologise now for not uploading sooner. I have been stuck in hospital and they aren't letting me leave and I am only allowed to go online for half an hour a day - major fail! So - me being a ninja, and whatnot - I hand wrote this (all of it!) and handed it to my lovely friend, Call, who typed this all up, so thank you! I trust he has not made any mistakes etc, but I don't have the time to check it all! Right, I'm off before the Nurse comes back and tries to knock me out again.  
Oh! And a word of warning; most of this was written whilst I was very high on pain medications, so I have no idea what I actually put. So, good luck. I'm going to check this out once I am out of this hell hole. Cheers Call, for doing this and bringing it in to me so I can post it! And cheers readers for sticking to this mental story. I'm-a gonna let you go now... Enjoy!**_

* * *

Sam chuckled as his target sat besides him, fluttering her long eyelashes at him and gazing at him with lust filled blue eyes. If she wasn't a job, Sam would've bought her a drink, maybe got talking to her, possibly take her back to his afterwards… Well, he was doing all that now, but he would do it without being watched over by a damned angel.

The Candy Man, as he liked to be called, was at the opposite end of the bar, drink in hand but eyes locked onto Sam – he could** feel** it. He had gotten rid of his ruined overcoat now, as Sam had told him to, and his suit had been washed, a chore the angel had seemed inspired by, watching the clothes roll around in the machine.

Sam pushed away the thought of the angel wearing just his boxers and one of Sam's shirts as it invaded his head and turned all of his attention back to the redhead.

"-so, we then got into the car, and here we are," she concluded in her gorgeous British accent, twirling a flaming lock between her fingers with a secret smile. "So what's your story, big boy?"

"Not much to tell," Sam smiled, swigging back the rest of his beer and taking her hand in his cool ones. "But I would love to hear more about you, Callie. Maybe I could have your number, or…"

"Or," she whispered, leaning in close so she could press her lips to his ear and give him a good view down the front of her dress and cleavage, "we could just go back to your place… and get to know each other a little better."

'_Yes!'_

"I'd love that," he agreed, grabbing his jacket and helping her from her seat and wrapping a protective arm around her as he led her out of the bar. They walked silently away and to the car the angel had leant him, acting the gentleman and opening the door and assisting her into the seat. From the infatuated look she gave him when he did it, he knew she was ready.

The angel couldn't fly anymore, that much he had admitted to Sam, without explaining the entire situation. Sam had guessed that he had lost a lot of his angel mojo from the fact that he had a cut on his back which had not healed – something which usually happened instantly with celestial beings. He seemed to be able to move swiftly, like he had seen many angels do before, but he hadn't pressed the subject, yet he kept his eyes open, watching the strange little things the Candy Man did. He had a terrible sweet tooth and always seemed to be cracking jokes; two things which Sam knew should be jumping out at him, screaming in his face the name of this being but his brain couldn't remember. Who the hell – or in his case, **heaven** – was he?

Sam drove slowly, taking the long route back to the angels home to give him the chance to take a taxi back himself and be prepared. The woman in the passenger seat, Callie, kept sneaking glances at him from beneath her lashes but she had not dare moved yet, simply sitting with her right leg slung over her left and her hands clasped on her lap. She had hair a range of colours from red to gold to white blonde that clung to the bottom of her shoulders in soft waves, clipped away from her face with a white sparkling flower. She wore a simple, low cut black dress that clung to her perfect curves, which had ridden up her legs as she sat on the low seats, showing a large amount of delicious looking thighs.

He swallowed down whatever thoughts were trying to take over his mind and focussed on the road. Ahead of them was the house, and pulling away from the driveway was a late night taxi. **Perfect.**

He pulled over and ran around to help her out, taking her arm and leading her to the house, letting her walk in first, straight into the devils trap. She continued walking for a second then stopped with a sudden backwards drag as she tried to cross the hidden circle. "What…"

"Yeah, I don't think you are walking out of that one," Sam frowned, letting the happy pretence fall. "What's your name?"

"Huh? What are you on about…?" A sharp look of disbelief crossed over her eyes as she fell to the floor, curling her knees beneath her. "You're a hunter?" At his silent nod a few tears rolled down her cheeks as she dropped her gaze to the floor. "First week out of the pit and the first guy I like turns out to e a freaking hunter…"

"What's your name?" he repeated again, glaring at her downcast face.

"Callie. Callie Rosa… Are you going to kill me again? Send me back?"

"I mean **you**, demon**.** Not the meat-suit you're wearing."

"No… I'm Callie. The real Callie… I came back."

Sam was leaning against the closed front door, watching the woman cry as she sat on the rug hiding his handiwork. She looked up for a second and at seeing his expression she whimpered, covering her face with her eyes.

"I died," she explained, taking deep, shaky breaths as she did so. "And they sent me to hell. Trust me, it isn't flames and a guy with horns... trust me. It's **really** hell… I was tortured. They pulled the flesh from my bones and burned me daily for years… Three years, they did it for. Three years I held on… then I just stopped. They stopped. Next thing, I'm back and in my body again…"

"Why." It was not a question, she noticed. It was an order.

"They need us. Good souls in hell. They are stealing us and turning us into… **this!**" she growled, indicating her body. When she looked up again, her eyes had turned completely black. "Help me… Please."

"Okay… I'll help you." He stood fully and walked around the devils trap so she could not get to him, and entered the kitchen on the other side. Leaning against the sink counter, was the stupid angel. "What do you think?"

The Candy Man – damn, Sam hated that name! – gave his usual grin and gave Sam an appreciative once over with his eyes. "She isn't lying, Sammy-boy."

"So what are we supposed to do then? Just hog tie her and beam her up to Scotty?"

The angels grin widened and he let out a low chuckle. "Sorta. But first we need more information. Like why the hell they want good souls. And how they're getting them. Otherwise, it'll all be a little bit pointless, eh, Moosey?"

"Okay... how do I do that? I haven't got the knife, or the colt, or holy water or anything that the girl would be scared of. Hell, I don't even think she would **know** she should be scared of it, if she is so new!"

"Then appeal to her human side."

Sam nodded in agreement and walked back to the demon.

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"Don't! Dear God, don't!" Callie screamed, her nails digging deep into her palms as she watched the scene before her, clutching a tartan blanket to her chest and letting her tears soak into the soft fabric. "Do not hurt my sister!"

Sam just looked at her, waiting for her to take the hint that he already had. It only took a second before she screamed again, the sound vibrating off of the walls with her anguish.

"I am going to **kill **you, you stupid hunter!"

"Unlikely. I just need some more information, and I will let you go and promise to leave your family be. Can we come to that agreement?"

"Not unless you add your head on a plate!"

Sam stood from his position just outside of the devils trap on the floor and paced for a moment, giving her time to reconsider. Again, it did not take long before the demon whispered, "you promise to leave my family be?"

"I swear it on my parents' souls in heaven." The look he gave her shone with his honesty and she knew he could not go against it. "Now, all I want to know is why hell is collecting good souls. I want a reason and I want to know how. Then I will fulfil my part of our deal."

Callie took a breath and tightened her grip on the blanket, inhaling the familiar scent of her younger sister, Sara, giving herself the boost she needed to answer. "Hell hounds... They have hell hounds working with and attacking Reapers. They find the good souls and when they are going to send them to heaven, the hounds attack and another demon comes and steals the soul..."

"Like with Famine? The horseman?"

"I – I do not understand the reference... But all I know is that there is something out there which has even our... **masters** shaking in fear. And it is not another demon. It is something else...It is higher up and more powerful than any of us... That is all I know."

"Thank you. Now, tell me how they turned you. I would like to know this, if you do not mind. If we know, we can try and stop it from happening to others like you."

The girl shivered uncontrollably. She knew what would happen if she did, but the little part of her that was still human compelled her to. "My name is Calledonia Rosa. I was walking home from work one day, when I was attacked by the cloud of smoke... It forced itself inside of me and took control. It led me to the tallest building nearby and made me jump. Then it left me. Next thing I know, I'm in hell and in a horrendous amount of pain. There was this man who came every day; said I had a job to do, and offered me the blade. I refused. I did not want to hurt anybody the way he was hurting me, but after three years I was tired... I had to give up. I accepted. But instead of doing what he had implied, I find myself back up here. He came to me and told me I had to find people – special people, people like me. I had to take over them, like someone else had done to me and send them down to him. They had to be truly good people, not sinners or blasphemers or cruel. And trust me, in today's world, that is a lot harder to do than you would think, you know.

"I have only been here a few days, but I have not found anyone who met up to his standards yet... and then I met you. I thought that you would be my first **collection**, but then you started to be nice to me. As in, **really** nice. No one has ever been that nice to me. Even when I was alive... I was the geek, the goody-two-shoes. I sat in the corner and got called names my entire life. So when you began to talk to me, I knew I couldn't do it. I cannot do this job... I know they are going to kill me when they find out what I've told you. So I do not expect or ask you to keep that first part of your promise – I do not wish to be set free. I would certainly be dead then... Perhaps I could assist you in some way?"

"You already have, Callie," Sam smiled, showing her the only way he knew how that he was proud of this demon, in what small way a hunter could be allowed to be. "But... if that is what you wish, I could have you talk to a friend of mine, help him. But you must promise not to freak out. Okay?"

She nodded and Sam turned to watch the kitchen door as it opened and the angel walked in, his eyes glaring at Sam as he moved to stand opposite the demon before him. "Thank you, Miss Rosa. You have been of great assistance to heaven."

Calledonia shrieked as she saw him, clearly seeing beneath the vessel which Sam saw, obviously terrified of the sight.

"He will not hurt you, Callie," Sam promised, bending down so he was at eye level with her. "He's with me."

"He-"

"-listens to **me**," Sam told her, extending his hand inside of the devils trap to her, trusting her implicitly. She took his hand and the Candy Man kicked the rug to the side and scratched at the markings on the floor and destroying the hold the sigil had on the demon.

Sam pulled her out of the circle and gave her another small smile as she turned to face the angel. "So what are you?" she asked, her voice no more than a whisper as she gave him a small curtsy in respect and kept her face lowered to the ground.

"I am an angel. And I intend to keep you safe from demons, Miss Rosa. Is that alright with you?"

She nodded and watched as he held his hand out to her before accepting it. The angel pulled her away from Sam and towards his own body and began chanting in enochian. With a flash of white light, both the angel and the demon had vanished from where they had once stood.

Sam just sighed and kicked the rug back into place. He spent the night pacing and cursing beneath his breath. He went over the previous days' events; trying to piece together all of the clues had been given to work out the identity of the angel but again fell short. He could not think past who he was now, not who he had been. It was frustrating!

He thought of the incident not to long after their moment in the garden and chuckled to himself. The angel had not seen why he should dispense of the tattered overcoat he had been wearing, which was so ruined it was barely hanging on by its threads. Sam had swiftly thrown it into the bin and told him his clothes needed washing, another concept the angel was befuddled by.

Sam had had to give him the shirt from his back as he washed the angels' suit and shirt. The Candy Man had knelt before the machine in his boxer shorts and Sam's shirt with childish curiosity as Sam had leant against the counter, his arms folded over his bare chest and observing the angel.

Somehow, he felt that he would never work out the angels' identity without him telling him. It was so stupid to think that he could outwit monsters and demons and find things from halfway across the earth within minutes with his laptop and Bobby's book collection, yet he could not figure out one angel's name.

Sam fell asleep in the angel's room, curled up in the dark red blanket, trying to forget what had happened that day. Tried to forget the angel. Tried to forget the letter and the dust and why the hell his hip and ass still hurt like hell. He tried... but he did not succeed.

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Sam was awoken by the feel of something brushing his hair away from his face. Groaning and pushing the hand away, he grumbled "Dean, the girls in the other bed," smiling slightly as he thought of his brothers shock.

"Wrong guy, Sammy-boy - **again**."

Sam's eyes shot open and he jumped into sitting position as he assessed the man beside him. The angel was back. "Y- You're back."

"And you are in my bed! Shove over," he grinned, pushing Sam across and sliding onto the bed next to him, lying back so their faces were side by side. "Mornin' boy-o."

"Good morning... So what happened last night?"

The man did not look happy at this question but he proceeded to answer "I took the girl upstairs. Well, I summoned assistance and they 'beamed us up to Scotty,'" he grinned as he finished Sam's quote. "They have her in a holding room, keeping her safe. I told them everything we know and I got some things in return."

"Like what? Elaborate, for me."

"Before, I could not do much. This... **being**, I suppose, is fairly new and unused to all things like this," he replied, gesturing with a small hand his body. "But they gave me back some of my abilities." He was going to leave it there but he caught sight of the bitch face Sam was about to pull and continued. "Before, all I could do is move small objects – as in really small, lollypop small, in fact – minor compulsion, and the usual lie detector gimmick we are all landed with. Now - from what they informed me - I can transport larger objects and project my voice out as well as all my previous doo-lolly's. It means we have a better chance of succeeding this mission."

'_So we are going to complete a mission... with voice projection?'_

"So, Moosey... remember me yet?"

"No. Give me a clue and maybe then I will."

"Nah... I will take my chances," he smirked, pushing Sam in the chest playfully. "I raised you; I can have some fun, too."

"Alright, Chuckles. So... what happens today?"

The angel looked away from his eyes and down, eyes widening when he finally noticed Sam was lying shirtless in his bed. His mind was clearly running into overdrive and Sam could practically hear his mind scream '_is he wearing __**anything**__ under those covers?'_

"Hey, Angel - focus!"

His eyes snapped back upwards, his tongue escaping from his mouth to try and moisten his suddenly dry lips, a movement the man beside him noticed instantly. Sam couldn't help it when his cheeks flushed pink and his pupils dilated, alerting the angel of what was happening.

"Sammy… are you in my bed, naked?"

"No, Chuckle-head, I'm not," he replied, pulling his last ounce of strength to rein in the sudden warmth that flooded his body and giving the angel his best bitch-face. "So what happens today?"

"First off," the angel replied, letting his gaze rest on Sam's pentagram tattoo, watching it move whilst his chest rose and fell, "and trust me when I say that I am really sorry for this, you need to put some clothes on."

Sam nodded and sat up, leaning over the bed to grab his shirt. The angels eyes instantly fell to where the sheets had rode down as Sam bent over, revealing his boxer shorts and his perfect arse. Sam heard the groan that fell from the angels lips but did not bother acknowledging it. Pulling it on, he jumped up and found his jeans on the floor at the foot of the bed, pulling them on quickly.

"Now what?" Sam asked sarcastically, turning back to the angel. The trademark smirk which he had become accustomed to had vanished, leaving in its wake a face that was devoid of any emotion, any sign of life. But the angel met his gaze and sighed silently, before answering.

"We go after the reaper. I think I've got some information on the man we think is linked to this, but let's not get our hopes up, okay? The man I got this information off is not the best person on earth, or in the state, for that matter. I do not hold it on high authority to trust him… but it is all we have, at the moment."

Sam gave him a small smile and made a move to leave. He took his time walking down the steps and into the kitchen to begin on breakfast, ignoring the angels' slow, light footsteps behind him.

"Sammy, don't," the Candy Man stopped him, tugging on his arm and pulling him to a halt. "You go look over the papers in the dining room – I'll cook you some breakfast. My treat." Sam looked him over before obeying the silent order, taking in the sombre expression and nearly guilty eyes.

"What are you hiding?" he couldn't help but ask when he was a few feet away from him. "What is so bad that you think you cannot tell me your name?"

The angel did not look at him for a few seconds, but shot out a hand to the wall to steady himself. When he had composed himself, and felt prepared he turned to face the youngest Winchester with sad, guilt ridden brown eyes. "Because, Sammy, I was not – **am** not – a very nice person. When we knew each other, you hated me. I betrayed you… I hurt you and your brother – mainly your brother – and destroyed whatever faith you still held for angels. Then, in a stupid, **stupid **attempt to redeem myself and save your Winchester asses, I put myself in the line of fire… got myself shanked withan archangel's blade… and you still never forgave me. I got sent up, my father brought me back but I was so **broken** that nobody thought I could survive… Then, I got my orders. Zachariah told me of all the crap you boys were doing, what he was going to do to you both. What the angels were going to do with the world," he growled, his upper lip snaring upwards and baring his teeth in anger. "And I couldn't do a single thing to stop those…"

"Don't worry about it, Candy Man. You tried. That's a hell of a lot more than most of those feathery dicks can say." Sam gave him a smile and reached forward, without consciously realising what he was doing, to brush a wayward strand of the mans hair away from his eyes. "I think that it is who you are now, Angel, which counts. You seem like a nice guy. Don't go panicking about stuff you cannot change – namely the past."

"Actually, Winchester, us from upstairs can change past events, you know," he teased, finally letting out a small smirk, but not big enough to make Sam feel any better.

"Trust me, I know. **Way** too much has happened with angels for me to think of you guys as incapable."

Now the angel grinned, his eyes sparkling with his amusement. "Thanks, Sammy. Go research, I'll cook."

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Sam had it all worked out. The reaper was going to have to be summoned, and tonight was the last night they could do it, according to the lunar position, or something like that. He had the blood, he had the sigils… What he didn't have, was the angel – **again.**

'_Junkless, angel.' _Sam thought to himself, shuffling on his feet as he stood in the abandoned warehouse, waiting for midnight to near. It was freezing in there, and his jacket simply wasn't enough to stop the shudders. '_Why the hell did I agree to this?'_

'_Because of my charming good looks, and probably my gorgeous ass, too,'_ a voice chimed inside his head, startling him for a moment before he recognised it as his **partner in this missions** voice. '_Sam-o, you need to relax. I am __**here**__, just out of the way. There is holy oil down there, and I know what you Winchesters are like for throwing that stuff around – oh, yeah, I never meant to say congratulations on the worlds first holy fire Molotov! If it wasn't my brother you destroyed, I would be very proud.'_

'_Is this what you meant by voice projection? Talking inside my mind?'_

'_That and I can do it outside of your head, so everyone else can hear it without me being there. I can also change my voice to sound like anyone I wanna be, as well.' _If the angel could have chuckled when doing his 'voice projection' thing, Sam realised, then he surely would have now. '_Any preferences_?'

'_Yeah, you. Now let me finish this damn thing so I can go get some sleep, okay?'_ He assumed the answer was yes as he received no reply.

Sam worked quickly, drawing out the sigils and setting up everything that would be required. It did not take long, and quite soon after, he was stood before a man dressed in a suit.

'_Seriously? A suit? Who are they trying to impress?' _

"Hello there, Samuel Winchester," the man nodded, his face emotionless and impossibly pale. His eyes were nearly white they were such a pale blue and his long dark hair was swooped back into a neat ponytail. "Why on Earth did you summon me, I wonder?"

"I need some, err, information. I need you to tell me what is going on with the souls."

The man nodded again, a slight tug at his lips as he replied sullenly, "ah, that is why. I do not know much, young hunter, but I will say that I am all yours for whatever you need. Now that our daddy dearest has gone missing, there are a lot of urgent issues I need to be dealing with right now, so helping you will not matter at all."

"Death has gone missing?"

"Taken, we presume. But without him to tell us who to reap, a lot of my brothers have gone rogue. A thousand or so years of seeing the evil in the world and not able to do anything can do that to you. That is why all the bad souls are being taken before their time."

"Not bad souls; the good souls. A reaper is helping something evil take good souls and taking them to hell. What do you know of this?"

"There would be no such thing. Reapers and Death itself are neutral. Admittedly, a few think of themselves, now, as mavericks, but none of my siblings would work with hell-" he stopped as if caught on his words. "They just wouldn't, alright? Can I go now? People to kill, time of the essence, etcetera, etcetera."

'_It's him, Sammy. We have our guy. I can smell them on him.'_

"So none of your siblings would," Sam accused him, "but you being the little bitch fell for it. You are the one with hell hounds. All I want to know is why."

"What on Earth are you-?"

A shock wave went through the building, shaking its structure to the bolts as a scream erupted from somewhere unseen. **Angel!**

"Okay," the reaper agreed, his eyes crinkling at the corners whilst he shuddered off the fear. "It is me. But what do you want? An explanation? You will not get one. And you will not get anything else, either. The person whom I work for is greater than anything you have ever seen before, Samuel. I should warn you against looking for her. The moment you are within smelling distance of her, she will kill you. And not even then will your angel friend be able to save you."

'_I'm coming in, Sammy. I'm taking him up top.'_

The angel walked in then, his dark hair caught up on one side like he had been pressed against something for a while. '_Hiding?_' He came up to the reaper and gave him a rather large grin. "Hey there, Jonathan."

The reapers eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets when he saw the man. He took a half step back then, trying to compose himself, straightened his tie as he looked down at his feet. "You are dead! I reaped you myself!"

"Yeah, not quite. I guess my Daddy is bigger than your Daddy," he taunted, scoring off a point on an invisible chalkboard. "C'mon, big shot. We need to have a little chat." He took a step forward and stopped, tilting his head to the side in a curious listening way just like Cas did – was it an angel thing that made them look like puppies? "A moment," he dismissed the reaper, turning and gripping Sams forearm and pulling him away.

Once they were an acceptable distance away, but still with sight of the reaper, the angel stopped and tilted his head so he could look Sam in the eyes. "I have some news," he began, his eyes void of emotion. "Valoel is dead."

Sam couldn't think of anything to answer that with. He supposed he could say "I am sorry for your loss", but he had lost count of the amount of times people had said that to him. He knew it meant nothing. The sentiment was true, sometimes, but the words did nothing to comfort, so instead he took a chance and hugged the shorter man in front of him, letting him know he was sorry in the only way he knew how.

The angel returned the embrace for a moment before releasing him and putting a foot or so between them. "She did what she planned on doing… and Zadkiel says that my body is ready. He has been working on fixing it since the incident with L-… Well, my body is ready. When I take Jonathan up, I'm upgrading."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Sam asked, unsure of why the shorter man did not looked at least a little pleased about it, even though his sister and best friend had just passed on.

"Yeah, it is… I just – I mean, I don't know what is gonna happen when I come back. You're gonna know who I am and what I have done and you will hate me again-"

"Okay, I get it. Listen, Angel, we went through all this at breakfast, remember? I like you, and whatever the hell happened before does not matter to me anymore. Okay? Now you do that, get your body back and then we will see if we can find this bitch before something else happens."

The angel just grinned up at him, as Sam moved another strand of hair away from his face, something he had done on several occasions that day and leaned into the touch. "I hope you remember that later, Sam." He turned and walked back to the reaper before the man could reply, stepping into his personal space and gripping his arm as he began chanting and subsequently disappeared.

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Sam was stretching as he walked into the Candy Mans house. His muscles ached from his long day and he was beyond tired by this point. He felt filthy, his hair hanging limply by his eyes, so he decided on taking a much needed shower.

The bathroom was large and overly decorated, each wall a mirror outlined with sparkling gemstones and the floor was scattered with a thousand different shades of coloured shards of glass covered in clear resin. The tub was shining white and the shower cubicle was shielded by frosted glass.

Sam locked the door and began to remove his clothes. As he bent to remove his shoes, a shock of pain went through him again from his hip, causing him to lose his breath. He leant against the wall for a moment taking in ragged breaths, giving himself a moment before he continued. He peeled off the remainder of his clothes and was about to step into the shower when he saw it.

The sight made him run cold. When he had first felt it, he thought he had simply pulled something whilst sleeping on that crappy sofa, or one of the many times he had been thrown on his ass in his hunts. But just as his leg was raised to walk into the cubicle, his eyes strayed to the mirror and saw the welt that was raised on his hip; a welt in the perfect shape of a handprint.

Again, all breath left him as he walked closer to the wall to examine it, taking it in as he turned to get a better view of it. The palm of it – the most raised part - was on his side, directly lined up to his crotch and the fingers curled around to his ass, scaring him completely.

Bile rose in his throat as he recognised it; his brother, Dean, had a similar mark on his shoulder from where Castiel had pulled him out of hell. **Hell.**

Parts of his conversations with the angel rang through his mind, making him feeling queasy with each remembered word. "_You died. It had to happen, so your soul could come to heaven, as proof to the big guys that you had agreed. But… it doesn't matter." "I raised you; I can have some fun, too."_

Sam had gone to hell. Not heaven. **Hell.** And the angel had had to bring him back.

'_Okay_,' he thought to himself, taking a deep breath and stepping into the shower to wash away the past days grime. '_I will talk to him when he comes back. He will explain it all.'_

The shower ran for longer than he usually took, he was taking his time and letting all of his troubles run down the drain along with the water. The fact that it didn't run out of hot water after five minutes, as well, held a big part in it, too.

When he was done, he slung a towel around his hips and walked through to the angels room, looking for some clothes that were not tiny, and found only a pair of boxers in his size and a shirt which looked remarkably familiar. He pulled them on and put on his own jeans, leaving his shoes and socks in the corner of the bedroom.

He spent the rest of the night lying on the previously mentioned crappy sofa, flipping through an old book that he had found holding a table straight. The title had him smiling 'Our Father, who art no longer in Heaven,' so he began to read it. It turned out to be better than he had expected and he was four chapters in when the doors burst open and a violent wind slammed the cover shut.

Jumping up, he pulled the silver knife from the kitchen which he had kept by his side since he had gotten there, and aimed it at the door, waiting for whatever the hell had done it to appear. It soon clattered to the floor when a very smug, grinning angel came around the corner and jumped in front of him, his shaggy blonde hair pushed back and his amber eyes locked onto Sams brown ones.

Sams mouth dropped open as the voice he had never thought he would hear again spoke. "Heyya, Sammy-boy," the arch-angel grinned.

**Gabriel…**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Sabriel at Heart**_

Sam gaped as he looked at the man before him, his jaw hitting his chest in shock. It was Gabriel. Gabriel was back.

"G-G-" Damn, his brain could no longer perform coherent thoughts as the angel walked over to him.

Gabriel reached up, stroking Sams hair away from his face like the man had done to him just an hour or so previously, trying to bring his hunter back to him. "Sam, are you alright?"

No, this could not be Gabriel. He was dead, and he would certainly never ask if he was 'alright'. He was more likely to try and kill him, more than likely in a way that was meant to embarrass him and humiliate him in the progress.

"Gabriel?"

Sam took every ounce of the man in, hungrily devouring him with his eyes whilst he could. He was a lot bigger now, although still much shorter than Sam, probably around 5"8 or somewhere near that, his face all Cheshire cat grin and honey coloured mischievous eyes. His green jacket and worn jeans fit his body snugly and… God, Sam was in trouble.

"Yeah, it's me Sam… I honestly thought you would remember me without this," he sighed sadly, removing his hand away from the human to indicate to his body. "C'mon! Candy Man? How many angels do you know who actually eat? I thought it would be obvious, but no! Just like Dean, so stupid at heart. I made it so clear to you, Moosey, but you didn't get it… You hate me again, don't you?"

Sam did not reply, instead his fingers curled up and he brought his fist into the shorter mans jaw with enough force to throw him to the floor. Usually, an angel would be practically unmoved, and the human would be left with broken fingers as if they had just punched a steel wall. But Gabriel had seen it coming and had reigned in his powers and let the man hit him like he would another human, fairly. He deserved it, in his eyes.

"That's for everything in the Mystery Spot!" Sam growled, bending down to grip the front of Gabriel's shirt and punch his face again. "That's for TV Land!" Another blow to the face. "And that's for leaving me!" He released the man and stood back taking a few gasping breaths to calm himself. He looked back at the angel lying on the floor. There was a smearing of blood under his nose and his eyes were filled with so much pain – although both of the men knew that the pain was not physical.

"I am sorry, Sam," the angel whispered, swiping a hand at his face to remove the blood and the beginning of tears which he would forever deny lay on his cheeks.

Sam just growled again and watched the other man wince in fear. "Don't," he managed, as the red haze cleared and he saw clearly for the first time since the angel had walked in, looking so damn pleased with himself.

He walked forward again and ignored the way the angel shrunk back away from his touch as he grabbed his wrist and hauled him to his feet. He steadied the man before pulling him to his chest and holding him there in an unbearably tight embrace. "And that's for coming back."

Had he been a human, Gabriel would definitely have more than a few broken ribs with the vigour which the Sasquatch was gripping him with, but he didn't mind. He just wrapped his arms around his waist and let his head fall on the mans chest.

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_**ONE DAY EARLIER**_

Dean walked into the motel room to find his brother on the floor and the chick he had invited in on the bed bloody. He dropped his bag carrying their breakfast in to the floor and rushed to his brother, flipping him onto his back and pushing his fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse. A dry sob escaped him when nothing beat against his fingertips. He held his brother for a moment before going to the woman and repeating the process with her. She was alive!

Something had seriously messed up her face though, although it did look kind of familiar – damn his brain in the morning! How the hell hadn't he noticed **that!**

"C'mon, wake up," he shook the woman's shoulder, taking her hand and squeezing it to try and get her to come around. It took a few more shakes before her lashes fluttered and opened, causing him to hold back a gasp. One of her eyes opened slightly, the skin surrounding it too swollen to fully open, to reveal a glimpse of sparkling grey, whilst the other opened completely to reveal an empty socket, bleeding as it stared up at him.

"Dean? Dean Winchester?" she asked, her voice small as she pulled herself out of his grasp and into a sitting position.

"Yeah, I'm Dean – now what the hell happened?" Usually, the elder Winchester would not be as brash, but his brother was dead and now he had a girl that **should** be dead with her injuries to look after. "And who the hell are you?"

"Quite the opposite," she smiled sadly, running a hand through her tangled auburn locks. "I am Valoel, Angel of the Lord and of peace."

At those words, Dean dropped her hand and stood away from her and moved back to his brother. "Fix him," he ordered, sitting besides the dead body and brushing his fingers repeatedly through his brothers long brown fringe. "Bring him back."

The angel shuffled to the edge of the bed and bent to rub absently at her aching feet. "He is already being saved," she answered after a while, meeting the mans eyes with her own. "This was planned. He shall return."

"Wait, err, Val-noel," he muttered, trying to think clearly. His brother was dead. A part of him wanted to lie down beside him and just wait for something to bring him back like it always did. Another part of him wanted to cry, scared that this was the last time his brother would die, that he wouldn't come back. "This was planned?"

"Yes. Sam agreed to help my brother. He agreed for this to happen." She stood and held out a cut hand to the man, waiting until he took it and had pulled him up and sat him on the bed furthest from the body until she continued. "Heaven is failing. I came here to bring peace to Earth and all of its inhabitants."

"And how the hell- sorry, **heaven** – are you going to accomplish that? We have been trying for**ever** to bring some peace, but we ain't got nowhere. What makes you think you can?"

"It is my job. It is what my Father made me to do."

"Then where were you when the apocalypse came? We could've used some damn peace then!"

"My older brothers are not as… susceptible, I suppose, to what I do as humans are. I plan to bring peace to humans and angels. I am not sure what effect I will have on demons, though. I am sure we will find out soon."

As she spoke two men appeared in the room besides the door. One was in a tracksuit and seriously overweight, whilst the other was wearing heavy gothic clothes, including the facial studs and chains across the body. At first glance of the second man, Dean had guessed he was a demon and pulled Ruby's blade out from the back of his jeans, prepared to fight.

"Hello, Valoel," the heavy man grinned, reminding Dean of the time he had met that cupid, a repressed shudder escaping him at the thought of their handshakes. The mans face changed as she looked up at him, "Jeez, little sister, what happened?"

"Demons," she answered, deadpan.

"Why haven't you healed yourself?" the Goth answered, taking a few steps towards her and brushed her hair away from her face with the back of his hand. "Would you wish me to?"

"No, Zadkiel. I am fine. It is time, for me, is all. I am not afraid."

"But-" the man by the door began before being cut off by the Goth with a wave of his hand. "Yes, sir."

"I have faith in you, little sister," Zadkiel murmured, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Joseph here has faith, also. He just fears for you."

"I appreciate it, brothers, but you must do your job as I must do mine. Take the Winchester body and make sure that when he is brought down that all goes well." She caught the glance the men gave each other and she released Dean to walk to Joseph and stand eye-to-eye with him. "You will tell me the fault, Joe."

The larger man winced as he took in all of her injuries now that she was so close to him. He could smell the blood. "We have a problem with the Winchesters soul."

"What?!" Dean yelled, jumping to his feet to glare at the Goth who was stood patiently at the side.

"The incident with Mammon has affected Samuel. A team has set out to save him before anything can happen, though. He will not remember it when he revives."

"Is **he** going?" she asked pointedly, ignoring the way Joseph was cringing beneath her stare.

"Like he would let his humans life rest in anybodies hands but his own!" Zadkiel scoffed. "Of course he went! The moment I told him what was happening, he told most of the heavenly host to – and I quote – 'stick it where the sun don't shine, I am getting my Sammy!' What were we to do? Chain him to the bed? Tried it. He got out. I sectioned off the corridors so he wouldn't be able to escape but he has always seen through illusions, hasn't he? Look, Valoel, we tried – we honestly did – but he's gone after the Winchester boy. If he survives, it will be a miracle. If he can get the Winchester to agree and help him, then I will do whatever he wishes, and I dare not say that lightly, had he heard me. He cares for Samuel, and he would die for him – he **has** died for him. The team that was sent alongside him is several of our best in the garrison. Whether he is one of the few to survive or not will remain with fate."

"And we all know what is gonna happen then, don't we?" Joseph sighed. "He slept with her and left before he could even say thanks! How do you think she is going to repay him if she finds out he gets to choose whether she lives or dies?"

A heavy silence fell over the room and even Dean felt the urge to keep it so. But angels being angels, they did not seem to notice that. "Well, I have faith in him," Valoel smiled sadly, moving to take a seat again on the bed. "Simply take the body and be done with it. I will finish my duty here and I wish for you to do the same."

When the angels moved to take Sams arms, Dean could not stop himself from rushing forwards to stop them. "Get off Sammy!" he roared, aiming his blade at the taller angel, slightly below his chain style collar.

"What do you want, older Winchester? If we leave him here, our brothers would have died for nothing and Sam won't come back. He will simply rot away on the floor. We take him with us, then Samuel comes back and we get to have our brother return to us with a purpose, not just a burnt out shell of what he used to be. This works better our way, so back the fuck off," he ordered. Dean complied, dazedly, and took a step back. "Good bye, Valoel. May Father bless your grace and bid you a safe journey onwards. I love you."

"May Father bless your grace and bid you a safe journey onwards. I love you, little sister," Joseph repeated, taking a firmer hold of the limp body and they vanished, taking him to someplace safer.

Dean didn't speak. He just let his knees give way and collapsed to the floor where his brother had been previously, curling up and letting his sobs take over.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_**ONE DAY EARLIER**_

When Dean awoke again, he was lying on the bed, his head lying atop a woman's breast. _'Man that must have been one hell of a dream-'_

He stroked a path across the stomach he could see and felt a shudder run in the body beneath him. Wait, that was not-

"Are you awake now, Dean?" Valoel asked, running her hand up his frozen arm to try and wake him. "Dean?"

"It was all real," he realised, still unmoving from his position atop the angel. He was lying alongside her with an arm wrapped around her waist and his head on her chest, her arms circled around his body in comfort. "It's real."

"Yes, I am sorry, Dean. But he will come back. I promise. Once I am dead, he will return."

"Whoa, dead?" he lifted his head so he could look into her one good – well, okay-ish – eye. "What are you talking about?"

She met his gaze and gave one of the sad smiles that he now acknowledged as her signature, like Castiel's head tilt. "My death will bring peace on Earth. When I am gone, all this will change."

"And you're cool with that?" he asked incredulously.

"I am not certain of the term you use, but I am not scared of Death. The man is actually quite nice. The afterlife, however, I worry about."

"Surely all angels go to heaven? I mean, err, your father let you live there in life. Why not in death?"

"For that exact reason. Heaven is the way it is to you because it is so much better than where you were during life. Earth is our heaven, in a way; it has beauty and choice which cannot even be conceived in my home."

"So… you guys come to Earth?"

She just smiled again and brushed a hand through his hair, distracting him. "Let us not talk of such things, yes? I would rather spend my last few hours in peace, rather than angst."

Dean let his head rest down for a few moments more, letting the angel take some comfort in him as much as he was taking it from her. They lay there, holding each other, ignoring the tears of each other, pretending they didn't exist.

A few hours later, when they were both out of tears and feeling like they were running out of time, they detangled themselves from each other and stood, not meeting each others gaze.

"Hey," Dean whispered, catching her hand and giving her a weak smile as he tried to make a joke, "don't tell anybody about that. Can't let them know I indulged in a chick-flick moment – it will ruin the bad boy image I have worked so hard on."

She smiled back, this time with a little amusement. "I shall take it to the grave," she replied.

They took the impala. Dean drove, taking instructions from the angel who sat behind him, lying on the back seat and hiding from prying eyes. It did not take long for them to reach the building. It was large and had columns surrounding it, made solidly of stone and outside, the paparazzi swarmed around it making the entrance invisible, like they were vultures to a carcass.

"Will this take long?" Dean asked, breaking the silence that had ensued since they had arrived.

"It should not. My brothers are waiting inside. We will end this today. I implore you to keep away from this car Dean, to keep away from the television box or radio or anything else electrical which carries a signal. You will not like what you see or hear."

"But what about you?"

She tilted her head as she appraised him. "Dean Winchester; the righteous man. You truly are a wondrous thing, you know that, correct?"

"Hey, I'm only looking out for the damsel in distress," he grinned.

"I am not in distress. But I thank you anyway. You humans are not as bad as Zachariah made you out to be, for hairless apes."

She chuckled silently as Dean got out of the car. She certainly did not expect it when he opened her door and leaned in to take her hand. He helped her out and gave her a brief hug as she sighed; realising now was the moment she died. "Just doing the chivalrous thing," he whispered.

"Goodbye, Dean. Sam shall be with you soon." She reached up to place a bloody kiss to his cheek, ignoring the way her burned flesh stung at the contact and vanished from his sight. Dean got back into his Chevy and drove off, heading to the nearest place he could go for a walk and try to keep away from all things electrical, like she had warned.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_**ONE DAY EARLIER**_

Valoel reappeared back inside the building and walked up to her brothers who were waiting by the stairwell. They turned their heads to the ground when they saw her vessels state and held their tongues from striking.

"Zadkiel sent me," Joseph said, appearing beside her and beginning to lead her up the stairs. "He says to tell you that Gabriel is alive. He has Sam Winchester. Only two of our brothers died along the way."

The news that two of her brothers were dead was not good, but it was a victory compared to how many had died in times previous in rescue missions from hell. "And how is the souls condition?"

"Slightly damaged but none worse for wear… Only Gabriel's mark has claimed his physical body."

It was a curious thing how reuniting the human soul to the body worked, but it was surely a miracle that he had come out of it relatively unharmed. "And knowing Gabriel it will be awkward to explain to anyone who sees it?"

Joseph bellowed with laughter as he caught her innocent meaning, having to lean against the banister rail as he wiped unshed tears from his cheeks as he blew out his breath. "Oh, Valoel, you have not been on Earth long, yet it still has corrupted you," he chuckled, straightening and wrapping a beefy arm around her waist in a very platonic way. "No, they did not allow Gabriel to brand him **there**, although he did surely try to, from what I heard. But yes, it is unlike his brothers," he grinned.

"Then all is well for him. How is Zadkiel faring?"

"He is doing well, little one. He is nearly finished repairing Gabriel's previous body. Only the lower extremities to deal with now."

"Gabriel would certainly not wish us to disturb or rush him whilst working on those parts then," she smiled, as they exited the staircase and the man beside he rearranged his features to that of his body a thousand years previous, knowing nobody would recognise it and it would cause no issue with the humans alive today. He gripped her wrists behind her back and began to march her across the roof until she was stood on the edge, looking down at the people so far below her, so small from this height. She heard the cries of shock as they saw her face, as the camera's zoomed in to take in the horrific sight that was now her body.

"This is what you wanted!" her brother, Locrathan, boomed through his loudspeaker, the sound coming out a thousand times more powerful, reaching the audience and there cameras below. "We told you we had her! We warned you of what we would do! Now, listen!" Her brother went on in a rant, sounding both crazed and logical at the same time, somehow. He managed to include everything in his speech from religion to politics to culture and everything in-between. He had everybody on the edge off their metaphorical seats as he spoke, his voice a beacon of both hope and joy to the listeners.

She knew that by now, the elder Winchester would have heard some of the news, but also knew he would have left his vehicle and electronic devices the moment he could, though. She only hoped he didn't see or hear the ending.

"Your choice, humans!" he finished, taking a step back so the world could wait for a moment.

Joseph gripped her tighter and pushed her feet over the edge, still keeping hold of her, letting her dangle mid-air as she kept perfectly still, unlike what any other woman would do in said situation.

Shrieks let out from below as she reached back and grabbed onto the lapel of her brother and pulled something large and hard from his pocket and threw it to the ground. The device – kindle, Joe supplied in her head – dropped to the ground so very far below her and exploded into a hundred little pieces, shocking the audience into silence.

She was pulled back onto the ledge and she caught hold of her brother and held to him, trying to regain the breath she had been holding. This was all planned, but it was still hard for her. She hated confrontation. But in the state the world was in now, you had to use violence to regain peace – although to her brothers, that seemed a little like screwing around for virginity. They did not understand. It was not the violence that would shock the people into more rational behaviour, but fear. Fear would make the humans more… **compliant.**

Locrathan stepped forward again, wearing the Saxon he had owned since he had first come to Earth. Those eyes were hard, evil. They were why he had been chosen to do this. This was why he would kill his sister.

"We want the wars to end. We want the violence to stop. Apparently this is the only way to get what you want nowadays. We are few, a small group with a large aim. What do you think will happen if a larger group comes along with the same ideas we have? How many people will they injure to get what they want? How much damage will they feel the need to cause before they get what they want? We are relatively small. Consider that."

He withdrew his blade; the one designed specifically to kill angels, and pointed it at the sky. Valoel was 'forced' to walk back to the edge and stand tall when her shoulders slumped. Everybody saw her body and knew who she was despite the injuries. She was Clarita Hernandez, daughter of some Prince in Europe and worldwide icon for beauty and innocence. That was what made what had happened to her even worse.

He brought down the blade and sliced of her feet, one by one, and threw them over the edge into the audience. With each second that went by, the angels started a chant which rose into the sky.

"Peace. Peace. Peace. Peace," they cried, not looking at their sister, unable to see the pain in her eyes.

As Locrathan went to cut off her hands, she began to sing, her voice catching on the loudspeaker and reigning down to the cameras below. The footage was being streamed live to every television, to every radio an audio descriptive of the events. They all heard her song.

The words were in a language Earth had long since forgotten, but the meaning behind them still shone through though. **Hope.** It was a song of pure hope.

As she lost her dress, now naked before the world as they carved into her chest, she sung louder, forcing her words into the heart of everyone listening. '_Peace, endless peace, and joy and hope and love. Can you all not see that?'_

As she finished the final note, the blade was drawn across her throat, opening up her arteries and letting the blood fall down the valley between her breasts, down her legs and to the floor and audience below.

"May Father bless your grace and bid you a safe journey onwards," Locrathan whispered before plunging the blade into her heart and ending her, looking into her eyes as she died. She mouthed 'goodbye,' and gave him a look of understanding before her body was released and she fell off the building, crashing to the ground below.

Screams rang out, and people began to rush back, avoiding the blood spatter that shot across the audience. The crowd quickly disappeared and the angels walked in a slow haze back inside the building before sending themselves away before the police arrived. The job had been done. But had it been enough?

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_**PRESENT DAY**_

Sam never wanted to move again. He was perfectly content in simply holding the archangel in his arms and breathing in his soft, sugary scent - the man clearly ate too much candy since the smell of chocolate and caramel was wafting from his body thickly.

The angel simply held him, every couple of minutes adjusting his grip to ensure that he didn't let go of the human. He had buried his nose into the crook between Sams arm and chest, relishing in the feeling and savouring it, carding this memory away for later.

It was not until Sam felt his head drop forward that he realised how tired he was. Regrettably, he pulled back from the shorter man and simply looked into his eyes, a small smile on his face as the angel raised a hand to the hunters face. "Gabriel," he repeated, still amazed that the man was standing before him.

"Yeah, Sammy; in the flesh," he grinned, palming Sams cheek. "You have no idea-"

"Shut up…" the man ordered, stepping from the touch and looking down to the floor. "We need to talk, Gabriel."

"Can't talk if I have to shut up, now, can I, Moosey?"

Sam just sighed at the Candy Man's – seriously?! How the hell did he not realise that it was the Trickster?! – words and moved them to the living room, seating on the couch and staring at each other. "First of all… how are you alive? And what are you doing here?"

"My daddy brought me back, Sambo. He came to me, told me that I had a job to do. But he only brought me back; he didn't fix me. I've been in my true form in heaven, healing what was left of my grace whilst my brother tried to find me another vessel. He found me Angelo – perfect, right? But you saw him, how he seemed, appeared. Not very daunting, eh? So my brother, Zadkiel, told me had would repay my kindness from a century ago by attempting to repair my true vessel," he gestured to his body and spoke in a language Sam could neither comprehend nor repeat – his name, he realised. "He finished, as you can see. I feel like **me** again… And you know all the rest Sam. Got Val to give you a letter, you agreed to help me with this job-"

"I mean what are you doing here… with me?"

"Samuel," he began, crossing his ankles and folding his hands together as he rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward to stare at something in the distance. Sam knew instantly that something was wrong the moment the angel used his name – his real, full name, not a stupid nickname or insult he had wittily thought of – and kept his gaze glued to the shorter man. "There are some things… Sam, you know what I know. My father did not tell me much at all about this, but he said I needed a human. So I got a human. Happy?"

It was all lies, Sam could tell. The angel may be serious, had been at the beginning at least, but at the end he lied. It was clear. "Why me?" Sam reiterated, choosing his words more carefully.

The trickster – hell, how did he never think that it was him… - kept looking into the distance, not meeting his eyes. "Because, Samuel, you are special. Not just to your brother; not just to my brothers and the world; but to **me.** You are kind and caring and have a pureness to you that not many possess. When many a man would've curled into a ball and cried, you stood tall and fought off that which most couldn't. You helped me to see that what happened with my brothers was wrong, and I… I like you, Sam. You mean a lot to me. I knew if I needed help from somebody else, it had to be you. It had to be. It's always been you, Sammy," he admitted, meeting the hunters gaze with his wet golden one. He was crying?

Sam reached forwards and brushed a strand of hair away from his face, realising only now how intimate the gesture was, but he no longer cared. He had Gabriel. That was enough. "Gabriel… I have to ask you something, and you gotta promise not to make a joke out of it and answer me honestly." He waited until the angel nodded before continuing. "I found, err, this mark. Like Deans. What do you know about it?"

The angel looked away, blood staining underneath his skin and making it obvious to Sam that he knew a lot about it. The blush made him smile slightly, but he kept his focus on the man, expecting an answer.

"You were supposed to die and come to heaven, Sam. That's what my brothers made sure of, that your soul would come up, not down. But… something got to you first. Whatever the hell it is that we are hunting; it found you and dragged you down. It took nearly thirty angels to bring you back; two of them were lost along the way. We had to fight the whole way down-"

"We?"

"Yeah, I was hardly gonna let a bunch of winged douchebags be responsible for my Sammy, am I? Of course I went with them."

Where Gabriels cheeks burned red, Sams skin turned a deathly shade of pale beneath his tan as realization hit him. "That's what those marks were on your back?"

The angel nodded. "Yeah, demons are a bitch, eh? You were quite far down – further than your brother had been – more proof that this is a nasty son of a bitch we are dealing with. I grabbed you and rode you out, held you in my arms until we got to somewhere safe and returned you to your body, which Zadkiel had kept safe for us. The reuniting of a human's soul with his body is… complicated. When death did it, it was clean, easy. When angels do it – even archangels – it is quite messy. The soul is already damaged, but putting it back into its body leaves a lasting mark on the connection point; the handprint. You're gonna have that for the rest of your life, I'm afraid, kiddo. Sorry."

"I can accept the fact that it was gonna leave a mark, but did you seriously have to leave it there? I can barely sit down without it hurting!"

The man smirked, looking more like the Trickster now than Sam could ever remember. "So you ain't pissed that I left my mark on your ass, you're pissed that it hurts to sit?"

Now it was Sams turn to turn red. "No, Gabe, I am pissed that you marked my ass, but one thing at a time."

"Well, ain't you lucky I got my healing hand back, then? C'mon, upstairs," he ordered, standing and leading Sam to his bedroom. Sam followed obediently, keeping his eyes on the archangel. Gabe opened the door and held it open for the human to walk in before shutting it. "Take off your jeans and lie on the bed."

"Wait, what?" Sams head jolted up, locking shocked eyes with the angel. "I thought angels could heal with just a simple touch to the forehead."

"Yeah, well I got my powers back a grand total of twenty minutes ago. They ain't as strong as your boy Cas', but they will be eventually. Now, if you want me to get rid of the pain, then lie down with your trousers off. If you would like. Otherwise, I am going to bed. I am exhausted, and really need the sleep – and before you say anything, yes, that is something else I have to do now."

Sam didn't know what to do. He didn't like the pain this mark gave him, but he didn't feel comfortable dropping his clothes in front of the man! In the end, the pro's outweighed the cons, and he took off his jeans, throwing them to the end of the bed before lying down on his back and waiting for the angel to walk over.

Gabriel didn't smile or look Sam in the eye when he moved over. He sat beside him and shimmered a blanket out of thin air to place it over Sam's groin. "I, err, gotta pull your boxers down, Sam, so keep yourself covered." He waited a moment for Sam to get a grip on the fabric before baring the welt to the open. His eyes lit up as he saw it, his mark on Sam Winchesters flesh, but Sam was not looking at his eyes. He was too busy trying to think of other things whilst he felt the angel's eyes near his junk. Gabe placed the heel of his palm on Sam's hipbone, and ran his fingers down, aligning his hand with the mark as he began to force some of his grace out, letting it touch the hunter and heal him.

Usually, it took about half a second to heal, and then the angel could battle demons and win. This time, it took eleven minutes, thirty seven seconds (not that Sam was counting or anything) and left Gabriel drained, covered in a cold sweat and light headed. When he was done, when he knew that Sam was no longer in pain, he pulled his hand away and felt his body collapse as his face came into contact with the pillow beside Sam.

Sam sat up, grateful that the ache and pain had gone, and slightly disappointed that the welt still looked new and sore, although it felt old, like a part of him he had always had. He pulled his shorts back on and leant over to the archangel. He took off the mans shoes and jacket, trying his hardest not to move and disturb him as he did so.

Lying back on the bed, he faced the angel and smirked, enjoying that he could take the mans features in without feeling judged. The man was beautiful, with his golden hair and eyes and his flawless skin. The fact that the man was quiet was, in itself, a miracle, that he was still, unbelievable. Sam felt something warm inside him as he smiled at Gabriel, curling up under the blankets as he pulled them over the pair of them, quickly falling asleep; human beside archangel.


End file.
